The Morning After
by Drummerchick7
Summary: Isabela's wicked ways make a mess of things, and she's forced to clean it up. Smut warning.


_A/N: So, I got all these new games for Christmas, and what so I do? I start playing Dragon Age and DAII again... This idea entertained me, and so I humbly present it to you. I thank, once again, Diablo Kades for her wonderful work **despite** not having played these games. She's awesome. I can't wait for more of her stuff._

* * *

Marion Hawke was on her feet, naked as the day she was born, dagger in each hand. She stood stock-still by the door, ready to gut whomever it was on the other side trying to sneak in. Her black hair was completely disheveled, her skin prickled in goose bumps from the chill of the morning, the fireplace barely glowing with the dying embers. Her eyes were fixed upon the knob, which was shifting slightly as someone picked the lock. She tensed, crouched slightly, daggers at the ready.

There was a faint click, the lock sliding out of place, and then the knob began to turn. The door followed suit, silent upon its hinges as it inched open. A pair of amber eyes gleamed in the slight morning light, the attractive face peeking through.

It halted abruptly when one of Hawke's daggers was shoved into it.

"Don't move."

Isabela took in the entirety of the crouched woman before her. Her eyes gleamed when she saw quite how _naked_ the warrior was. A sultry smile spread slowly across her face, and she met Hawke's eyes with purpose.

"Dammit, Isabela," Hawke huffed, lowering her weapons and straightening, letting the door open a little more. "I thought you were a burglar, having killed my staff and coming for me next." She tossed her weapons to the side, allowing the door to open even further. "What do you want?"

Isabela pounced like a cat, grabbing the naked Hawke about the waist and pushing her into the room, pressing her own body firmly against the warrior's. "I was hoping to find a willing bed partner," she purred, ducking her head to latch onto Hawke's throat. "I never imagined I'd find you quite so primed and _ready_!"

Hawke had been taken by surprise. Her arms had instinctively wrapped around the pirate to keep her balance, and the teeth at her throat caused her to gasp, a thrill of heat to travel from the contact straight down to her groin. A split-second later, a hand grasped her breast, tweaking her nipple before massaging it roughly. Hawke tried desperately to get her reeling senses under control, to push the woman away, but the forward motion had continued, disallowing any distance between them while Hawke tried to push herself back.

Isabela moved toward the bed, not noticing the small lump under the covers. She pushed the taller, paler woman into the bed, both of them hitting it with a small expulsion of air. Isabela went immediately to attack Hawke's breasts with her mouth, leaving the somewhat dazed warrior to weakly struggle against her. All it earned her was her wrists to be trapped at her side.

"Isabela! You need to stop! I can't-"

"Hawke?"

Both women froze.

The small lump began to shift, a tousled, black-haired head poking out from under the heavy comforter.

"Marian? Are you awake? What-"

"Kitten?!"

Isabela threw herself from Hawke's naked form, tackling the poor elf back to the bed. Never mind that the elf was just as naked as Hawke, never mind her squawk of confusion. Isabela was thrilled – her friends had_ finally_ removed their heads from their asses and tumbled naked into bed! She was ecstatic.

Hawke just watched, a smile spreading across her lips. Isabela felt about Merrill how she herself felt about Bethany. Well, close – she wasn't sure how happy she'd be to literally fall on top of Bethany naked in bed with someone. Isabela was a special sort, however; sex of any kind, with any people, made her exquisitely happy. As much as she loved Merrill as an innocent, she'd always lamented that the elf had absolutely no sexual experience (while simultaneously promising that she would personally gut anyone who broke the small woman's heart).

Isabela finally pulled back from the elf, who was now fully awake, all of her visible skin a bright red. Isabela paid no mind.

"Kitten, I'm so happy! When did this start? Have you two been holding out on me?"

Hawke smirked. "Calm down, 'Bela. This is new." She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, covering herself as best she could. Isabela had obviously seen her before, but that just sort of made it _more_ awkward. "Merrill came over last night, and… well. We were sleeping when your lock picking woke me up."

"Oh, how precious! You were _protecting_ her! Oh, I could _puke_, that's so sweet!" Isabela grabbed the silently blushing elf once more, squeezing her again before holding her at arms' length. "You're growing up, Kitten!" She looked like she might say more, but stopped at the look on Merrill's face.

The elf was blushing furiously, but also looked dismayed, staring with horror in her eyes at Hawke. Horror, and such deep disappointment.

"Merrill." Isabela ducked her head some, seeking out the mage's gaze. "Kitten, I had no idea. If I had, I wouldn't have… I don't play with my friend's toys, sweet thing." She let go, taking the elf's hands, looking into large, wide eyes. "I'll leave you two alone. I'm sorry I made things difficult." And she leaned forward, kissing the elf on the cheek.

She was out in a flash, leaving Merrill to clutch at the blanket, Hawke crossing the room to close the door once more.

"Merrill?"

The elf's eyes snapped to Hawke's, completely ignoring the warrior's magnificently naked body and focusing on her face. It looked like she was trying to read a foreign tongue.

"Merrill, I'm sorry. I had no idea she would… Well. That's over. I meant everything I said last… night…"

Hawke trailed off as Merrill abruptly stood from the bed. The elf hurriedly gathered her clothing, pulling on her robes and clutching them closed, taking her sole less shoes in-hand and running out the door almost as quickly as Isabela had. Hawke tried to stop her, but she slid from the warrior's grip like water. By the time Hawke had pulled on some clothing so as not to scandalize Bodahn and Sandal, the elf was gone, the front door open, letting in the cold winter air.

"Balls."

* * *

"What are you doing here, looking so damned miserable?" Isabela, having just come through the door to The Hanged Man and grabbed a pint, shoved her way into Hawke's lap, tossing back the last of her ale before mussing the warrior's hair affectionately. "You should be trussing Kitten up and pounding her brains out! And we have things to discuss about her, by the… way…"

Hawke's expression hadn't changed throughout Isabela's entire speech. Isabela trailed off her threat as she was bodily lifted from Hawke's lap and placed firmly on her feet. She watched Hawke battle with her temper, the anger finally winning out as the Ferelden surged to her feet, all six feet of her looming over the pirate. She gripped Isabela by her upper arms, lifting her and walking her very quickly over to the wall, where she pinned the woman.

"What in the Maker's hairy asshole were you _thinking_, 'Bela!"

"… I was thinking that I was drunk and wanted to fuck, Hawke," she stated bluntly, eyeing the woman. "What's wrong? I've visited you like that in the wee hours before. How was I to know you'd finally grown a pair and bedded Merrill? You've been in love with her for years and hadn't done anything about it _yet_."

Hawke's anger deflated from her as the pirate spoke, and she let go of the Rivaini woman and pushed herself against the wall, sinking down to sit with her back against it. She mumbled something as she hid her face in her hands.

"What? Hawke, speak up," Isabela said, squatting before her and prying her hands away from her face.

"I said, Merrill ran off. After you left this morning. I can't find her. She must think the worst things of me, watching that display after the promises I was making." She sighed and buried her face in her knees instead.

"Oh, Hawke. I… C'mon. I saw her heading to her house when I came in, which is how I knew you were here and not in bed with her." She stood up, tugging on Hawke's hands as she did so. The warrior refused to budge. "Oh, come on! This is so easy to fix, you're just being a big dope! I swear, sometimes you're worse than a man!" Hawke squawked indignantly at that, prompting a grin from the pirate. "Yes, a big, dopey _man_!" She succeeded in tugging the taller woman to her feet, grabbing her cloak from the table she'd occupied. "Now, let's go!"

* * *

The Alienage was quiet tonight, the last dregs of the sunset disappearing above the dirty buildings. Isabela was practically dragging Hawke, who continued to be so very reluctant. She just didn't want to make it worse, and couldn't possibly imagine facing Merrill after what had happened that morning.

"I'm not sure it's such a good idea to show up with you," she murmured as they approached Merrill's home. She managed to get rooms on the first floor, something Hawke may have had a part in when she helped Merrill find a place to live when she first came to Kirkwall. She also had her own entrance to the building, the other inhabitants using a separate door that led directly to the stairs. Isabela knocked on the door, holding Hawke's wrist in a vice-grip.

"Hello?" Merrill's voice came to them slightly muffled through the thick wood – again, something Hawke had made sure of when moving the tiny elf with no street-smarts in to her dwelling.

Isabela called back, "Kitten, it's me. I have something for you." Marian could almost _feel_ the smirk the woman was sure to be making at her own little joke. She rolled her eyes, giving the grip on her wrist another test. She really wasn't sure that now was the time, nor was this the way, to get Merrill to see that what had happened that morning was a comedy of errors in the most spectacular way.

"Isabela?" The door opened slowly, Merrill's red-rimmed eyes peeking out from underneath hair that was still just as disheveled as it had been that morning. Hawke's groin pulsed at the thought, despite the fact that the tiny woman had clearly been crying.

Merrill froze when she took in the sight before her. The two culprits from earlier, responsible for breaking her heart, standing before her, cornering her in her home. Her eyes narrowed on Marian's face, and she moved to slam the door without another word.

Only she couldn't, because fast as lightening Isabela caught it, pushing it open and stepping across its threshold, pulling the tall warrior around with the motion and giving her a firm shove on the rump into the building. She then stepped back out, closing the door just as swiftly.

As Marian crashed into poor Merrill, Isabela called out to them through the door. "This is silly! You two are going to move past my gaff from this morning! And I'm not letting you back out until I _know_ you've stuffed each other full!"

Even Marian's face blushed bright red at _that_ one.

When she crashed into the elf, she had wrapped her arms tightly around her to keep from knocking her over. Now she stood with the smaller woman wrapped in her arms, tousled hair brushing against her chin. She took a moment to appreciate the feeling: the woman's own unique scent, reminding her of earth and trees even though it had been months since she'd gone into the forest; her warmth, able to radiate from the elf and suffuse Hawke's entire being; and most of all, the feeling of this woman in her arms, this small, bony yet soft woman who had come to mean so very much to her. A smile spread across her face, her eyes closed, as she inhaled and pulled her in a little tighter.

"Hawke, let me go," Merrill's muffled voice came to her. The elf's arms had wended around the warrior at first, but then she seemed to remember herself, and how very hurt she was, and she had let go. Clearly, Marian had held on too long. Trying not to feel too wounded, she reluctantly let go.

"Merrill, I-"

Merrill stepped away, looking up into Marian's face with eyes that betrayed her hurt and anguish. "I'm not interested, Hawke. I… gave you… _everything!_ I thought you knew what that meant. I've never… I'm not…" She paused, looking toward the door. "I'm not like Isabela! I wish I could be, but I'm not! I can't stand the thought of you being with anyone else. I…" And she trailed off, clearly unsure of what to say to truly articulate her emotions.

Marian wanted to take the poor, wounded elf back into her arms, comfort her, but she was wise enough to know that now was not the time to try. Instead, she tried her words, which seemed to get people to do what she wanted in so much of the business she took care of around the city.

"Merrill, I can't possibly explain how sorry I am. I know it sounds like an excuse, but Isabela really did catch me off-guard this morning. I suppose that's not what really upset you, though, is it?" She tried to get the elf to look at her, ducking her head until she could see her eyes. "It's that I could do those things with someone in that manner? That I could make love to someone without giving them my heart?" Her heart sank when she realized what this was. "Oh, shit. You think I just said those things to get you into bed, don't you? You think this is to _me_, what sex with Isabela always was." Merrill didn't respond, but she really didn't need to for Marian to know she was right. "Balls…"

Merrill turned away fully, trying to hide the tears that had formed. Marian had seen them, however, and her heart broke a little at the sight. She wracked her brain as quickly as she could, and decided that desperate times called for desperate measures.

Merrill squawked in surprise when Hawke grabbed her hand, whirling her around. The warrior then dropped to her knees, keeping hold of that hand while she looked up into those impossibly large eyes.

Merrill thought her heart might drop right out of her chest at the sight before her. Clearly, Hawke had been paying attention to any little scrap of information that passed her way pertaining to the Dalish, because this was a Dalish proposal posture. The warrior looked into her eyes for a moment, Merrill feeling as though the warrior were looking into her very soul. Then she spoke.

"Merrill, _emma lath_, _ma vhenan_. _Ma'arlath_. I love _you_. I have for… longer than is probably healthy. I _already_ fight to protect you, I make sure you're fed, and kept warm, and I long to listen to your troubles, and to help you in what I am able. My understanding is _that_ is what a Dalish does for their betrothed, and once that is true, and they both agree to it, they share their bodies with each other, and they are wed."

Throughout the speech, Merrill's hurt melted away, turning swiftly to wonder. Hawke knew all _that_?! Not only was she proposing as one of her clan would, but she was speaking to her as one of The People! The elf thought she'd been giving up on her people's customs by coming here, giving up on finding love and sharing this most intimate of rituals because of the way her desires leaned. And yet here it was happening, with this _human_, who she had been almost ashamed at first to have fallen in love with. She was not ashamed anymore.

Marian stood up, smiling a little as she closed the distance between them. "So, if you think about it, we're _already_ wed." And here, she cocked a lopsided grin that seemed to come out a lot around Merrill. "And I can't tell you how excited that prospect makes me."

Merrill thought her heart might burst with joy. Just moments ago Hawke had hit onto _exactly_ the reason she was so hurt: she doubted Marian's sincerity. Now, she was doing a _spectacular_ job of proving to Merrill how sincere her feelings were. And she was even doing it with a hint of her characteristic humor.

Merrill couldn't help herself. She flung herself into the other woman's arms, being bodily lifted as she was caught. The kiss they shared was searing, full of so many emotions, so _much_ passion. Merrill thought her heart might beat so fast that it would just stop. Then Hawke was gathering her legs up, and Merrill was gripping the human's hips with her knees, being lifted so her own face was slightly above the level of the warrior's. Then they were moving, all while kissing fiercely, and then they weren't moving anymore. Merrill yelped as Hawke turned, sitting on Merrill's bed with the elf straddling her lap.

Their kiss ended momentarily when they hit the bed, but neither seemed eager to say anything. Their lips met once more, hands entangling in hair, chests heaving whenever they separated long enough to breathe. Merrill's head was swimming; the night before had been gentle, tender, a wonderful, magical way to lose her virginity. Now, however, it was hot, fevered, like they couldn't get to whatever destination they were headed toward fast enough.

Marian's lips travelled down to Merrill's neck, catching hold of the skin and sucking it in with every kiss before letting go and moving further down. Her fingers began tugging at the ties to Merrill's robes, and in moments the elf was fully divested of her clothing. Marian let out a hiss at the sight before her: Merrill's soft, slightly bony body splendidly naked, perched in her lap like a feast spread out before her. And feast, she did.

Her hands began to maul flesh, her teeth and lips continuing their path down the elf's throat. She latched on to the pulse point just above the collarbone as her fingers found the small woman's nipple, her other hand gripping a hip more firmly than was strictly necessary. Merrill cried out at the onslaught of sensation, pleasurable pain at her throat, heat travelling from her nipple directly down into her groin, her heart swelling with the slight possession the firm grip on her hip suggested.

She could smell her own sex. It made her flush even deeper, so deeply that her ears felt like they would spontaneously catch fire, to think that the human whose lap she straddled could smell her, as well. Marian was working on giving Merrill the most obvious mark of passionate possession she could, not having let up on the love-bite on the elf's throat, her hands doing the work to heat the rest of the woman's body.

Merrill could barely think, so great was her pleasure. She was vaguely aware that she should perhaps be getting the warrior beneath her to a similar state of undress, but couldn't manage to do more than moan and clutch at the cloth at the human's shoulders. She let out a faint whimper when Hawke finally released her throat, her kisses travelling back up to kiss the elf on the lips, invading her mouth with tongue and teeth. After a few moments, their lips parted once more, travelling along the smaller woman's jaw to her ear.

Merrill went stock-still when she felt Hawke's breath on her sensitive ear, whispering words she could not make sense of in the haze of her passion. Her breasts were being mauled, nipples tweaked, flesh manipulated. She could barely breathe for the pleasure her love, her_ betrothed_, was giving her. All she could manage were small whimpers and shivers whenever the breath stopped passing across her ear.

She did manage more than a whimper when Hawke's right hand suddenly left the elf's breast, travelling down her stomach to sample the slick fold's of Merrill's core. They both groaned when her fingers found how very wet the elf had become. But then the elf practically screamed, wrapping her arms around Hawke's shoulders as tightly as she could and bucking against the two fingers that had slipped inside.

The human's free arm snaked around Merrill's naked waist, holding the elf just as tightly to her as she pushed deeper inside, groaning once more at the feel of her. The elf was wetter than any woman she'd ever experienced had ever been. The feeling of her inner walls clenching desperately around the human's fingers made her suddenly understand why a man might like having sex with a woman so much – if it felt this good on her _hand_, she could only imagine what it might feel like wrapped around her clit. The smell of the elf's sex made her want to dive in and never leave. She sought out Merrill's lips as she used her arm to lift the mage, urging a slight up-an-down rhythm on top of Marian's hand.

Merrill picked it up quite quickly, thrusting her tongue into Hawke's mouth, mimicking the motion as she thrust herself down upon the human's fingers. She moaned, eyes closed, arms wrapped around the human's shoulders, fingernails digging into flesh through fabric. It was quite possibly the most passionate moment of either woman's lives, and it was quickly spiraling out of control. Merrill could feel the heat building, and answered it by grinding herself even harder against Hawke's hand. Hawke answered _that_ by positioning her thumb against the hard bundle of nerves, feeling Merrill grow stiff almost instantly.

Then she was shuddering her release, all of her muscles taught against the warrior's body. Her spread legs gripped Hawke's hips, her fingers dug even further into her shirt and skin, her arms tightened even more around her neck, and she threw her head back as she cried out her pleasure. Hawke helped by pumping in and out of the elf as best she could, latching on to her throat once more and darkening the already-blood-red love-mark there.

The elf grew limp after moments that could each have been an eternity. She collapsed against the tall warrior, letting her forehead rest against the woman's shoulder as the rest of her sagged, all of her energy stolen by her release. Hawke was content to be as they were, though made one small concession and, without exiting the woman atop her, shifted to lie on her back, bringing her cloak – which she still wore – about the naked woman, to protect her from the cold winter night. After a moment or two, the contractions faded, and she was able to remove her fingers from the elf's core, amid a whimpered protest, wrapping that arm around her, as well. They fell asleep like this, no words spoken, wrapped in each other's embrace the entire night.

* * *

Isabela strained to listen, resisting the urge to puke when she heard Hawke essentially proposing to the elf. Varric was beneath her, also standing with an ear to the door. When they heard the muffled yelps and moans start up, he pulled away, taking Isabela's wrist and pulling her away, too.

"Good job, Rivaini. You were right – you _can_ fix some things."

"Varric, are you admitting that you were _wrong_?"

"Of course not! Just that you aren't a _complete_ screw-up."

They both chuckled as they made their merry way back to the Hanged Man to share in a victory toast.


End file.
